Category Archives: Discover Me

Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Day 8

Before I begin discussion on various breeds of chickens suitable for backyard raising, allow me to present Mr. Neil Patrick Harris, doing what he does best—singing, dancing, and looking all kinds of hawt!

You know that saying, “I would go gay for you?”  Well, I guess it works in this case for NPH as well.  Except in my case, I need an additional caveat, e.g. “I would become a man and go gay for you!”

I digress.  Let me return to the focus of this post, Tina Fey & NPH—I mean, chickens.  Now that I’ve done sufficient research into the type of chicken coop the hubby and I will build (it’s going to be the Rolls Royce of chicken coops, I tell you . . . ok, maybe more like a Toyota), I now need to dive headfirst into the world of chicken breeds.  Now, I don’t know about you, but I was mighty ignorant before engaging in this research.  I didn’t realize there were multiple breeds of chicken.  In retrospect, of course, that makes perfect sense.  Indeed, I believe that many people shared my belief—there is but one breed of chicken that lays eggs, and it is the chicken that is on the cover of the Foster Farms bag.  You know, this one:

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But in all seriousness, I didn’t think that all chickens looked like this cartoonish chicken with a massively engorged, bright red, waddle.  I wasn’t born yesterday, people.  Rather, I figured most egg-laying chickens looked more like this:

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Now, imagine my shock and awe when I discovered that there are literally hundreds of breeds of chickens.  Chickens are kind of like other domesticated animals—they come in all different shapes, colors, and sizes.  To narrow down the field to the most qualified contestants, I consulted My Pet Chicken and its handy-dandy “Which Breed is for You?” tool to create the finalists for Ms. Backyard Fowl USA.  Drum roll please.

Contestant Number 1 is named Australorp.  A chick hailing from the badlands of Australia, Ms. Australorp loves to have a good time.  She does well in all climates, takes fondling quite well, but yet is also shy and docile.  Considered “sweet and shy” by My Pet Chicken, Ms. Australorp’s best feature appears to be her ability to lay ginormous brown eggs—about 5 a week.

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Contestant Number 2 is named Delaware.  As you probably guessed, Ms. Delaware hails from that little state you barely go through from DC to NY where meth addicts walk around the rest stop, asking you for money for gas, because they lost their “college credit card,” and you end up giving them a $10 because that was the smallest bill you had and you were frightened of pregnant meth-face and her methy boyfriend.  I digress.  Ms. Delaware is a plus-sized beauty, who is quiet, friendly, and calm.  Not quite as adept as her Australian competitor, Ms. Delaware only pops out about 4 eggs a week.  Her white feathers make her look much like Ms. Foster Farms, whose wings go very well with Frank’s Hot Sauce and butter.

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Contestant Number 3 is named Ms. Easter Egger.  I’m not kidding, folks—Ms. Easter Egger must have quite the sense of humor.  Boasting a much slender frame than her plus-sized competitors, Ms. Easter Egger is a fun chick, who isn’t afraid to be dominated, as she bears confinement and handling quite well.  Ms. Easter Eggers produces about 4 beautiful greenish/bluish eggs a week.

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Contestant Number 4 hails from France, and is named Ms. Faverolles.  While her competitors have only 4 toes, the feisty Frenchie has 5 slender toes to stomp out her competition.  Her competition may spend much of the year brooding at home, but Frenchie would rather be out on solo excursions.  Frenchie lays about 4 eggs a week, of medium size.  Perhaps what is most striking about Frenchie is her neck.  I’m growling just thinking about it.

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Finally, and bringing up the rear, Contestant Number 5 is a Star.  No, really.  Ms. Star is considered an “excellent layer.”  Cue the jokes.  Consistent with her excellent laying abilities, Ms. Star is quite the friendly chick, docile to handlers, and loves to lay big brown eggs (5 a week, in fact).  Covered in beautiful black feathers, Ms. Star is one hot chick.

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So now that the competition is set, time to pick our birds.  What hot chicks will win the grand prize of living in my parents’ backyard?

This has inspired yet another genius idea for scriptwriting.  NPH and Tina Fey, email me.  I’ve got your WGA/Golden Globe/Emmy in my brain.  And I’ll let you have it for free.

Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!


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Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Day 6

I am a sucker for technology.  I grew up hanging out with my older brother, who was one of the first people to ever get a cell phone.  You know, one of those ginormous monstrosities that looked like it was going to engulf the side of your head?  Well, flash forward now to 2010 (pronounced twenty-ten), and my adoration and fascination with technology has continued.  In no particular order, I’m looking forward to acquiring the following:

  • An Apple Tablet computer:  Rumors are that the Tablet will be akin to a super-sized iPod Touch.  Currently, I use my Touch to play Bejeweled, check and update my Twitter (follow me at @alexisnectar), study my Mandarin Chinese flashcards (so that when I finally meet Tina Fey & NPH in person, I can say, “Renshi ni hen gao xing!” and to NPH specifically, “Wo yao sheng ni de xiao hai”), and watch the Robin Sparkles music video, “Sandcastles in the Sand.”  Since the Tablet will simply be a Biggest Loser version of the iPod Touch (I’m talking season premiere episode), I will be able to enjoy my iTouch activities in the American way—go big, or go home!
  • A Parrot AR.Drone remote-controlled quadricopter:  The hubby and I have been wanting to get remote-controlled helicopters after we played around with the heli gifted to our cousin for Chrismakkah.  Hubby thinks that I want one so we can race our helicopters.  Between you and me, however, I have much higher aspirations.  Wink Wink.  Knee Slap!  Imagine what I could do with a device that could carry a small video camera, and fly up high into the skylines of Southern California and Manhattan—high enough to peer into the windows of certain individuals, perhaps named Tina or Neil?  Now imagine if that helicopter had sufficient power to act almost like a homing pigeon (sans shit), thereby allowing it to carry a tightly bound script and dump it into an open window of certain individuals, perhaps named Tina or Neil?  The possibilities are limitless!
  • A 3D Television:  After watching Avatar in IMAX 3D, I now know that 3D is the future of entertainment.  The media conglomerates are indeed jumping on this bandwagon, as significant capital is being invested into the development of 3D television sets and programming for the home viewer.  ESPN will be launching a 3D network this spring, and other channels will soon follow, depending on the inevitable success of the venture.  I too want a 3D television and the accompanying 3D glasses.  Currently, television is not solely a solitary sport—you can watch television with your friends and family and enjoy the brainless entertainment together.  However, with 3D television, the possibilities of seclusion are finally within grasp.  Armed with 3D glasses that blur out everything but the TV, we will finally be empowered to sit alone and isolate ourselves from all non-digital humanity.  I can already imagine watching a 30 Rock episode where Liz trips on an icy Manhattan sidewalk and flings a mustard-topped Nathan’s hot dog into my face, meant not to add anything to the substance of the show, but rather to shamelessly take advantage of 3D technology and includes advertising.  Or an episode of HIMYM where Barney steps out of the screen before me, sticks out his chest, raises his chin, winks, and says, “I.  Am.  Awesome.”

I wonder when I’ll be able to record myself in 3D.  I envision my 3D self taking over the airwaves, pleading to Tina Fey & NPH to hear my cries for help discovery.  Technology will make my delusions of grandeur finally come to fruition.

Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!

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Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Resolutions

In the interest of all that is expected, herein lie my New Year’s Resolutions.  I know what you all are thinking (all two of you, including hubby) . . . her New Year’s resolution is to be discovered by Tina Fey and NPH.  Wah wah wah.  Alas, while that is a resolution I hold near and dear to my heart, it frankly will not be on this list, because that is not a resolution, but in fact the meaning of my very existence.  I consider New Year’s Resolutions to involve tasks and goals that you desire, but you also consciously or subconsciously know that you will likely give up on said tasks and goals by March at the latest, January 2 at the earliest.  So drum roll please . . . below, I present my list of resolutions I plan on breaking by March of 2010.

  1. Traveling to Queens and Standing Outside of the 30 Rock Studios for 30 Hours Wearing Nothing but 30 Intricately Placed Diamonds:  Technically, I understand that this task sounds like a “Discover me, Tina Fey” task.  But I had to recategorize this task as a resolution when I realized that the procurement of 30 adequately-sized diamonds would not be realizable, especially since the hubby and I failed to win at our last Super Lotto attempt.  Therefore, it becomes a resolution, and I plan on easily breaking this resolution by January 2.
  2. Undergoing Extensive Plastic Surgery In Order to Look Like David Burtka:  For those of you who don’t know, NPH’s boyfriend is David Burtka.  For those of you who know me, I don’t look like David Burtka.  However, if indeed I looked like David Burtka, I could perhaps position myself outside of NPH’s home—watering the plants, for example—and NPH could mistaken me for his boyfriend, ask me whether I wanted to have the leftover lamb vindaloo for dinner or go out instead, and I would respond by providing him with my script and running away as the real David Burtka stumbles out of the shed in which he accidentally locked himself into.  Given that I need only find a qualified plastic surgeon who would be willing to engage in such pro bono work, I give this resolution until March 15.
  3. Not Exercising:  I like to think outside of the box and adopt resolutions that make me one-of-a-kind.  Being a fitness fanatic, I resolve to sit on my ass and remain as immobilized as possible so my buttocks can expand and engulf the remainder of my body, giving a whole new meaning to the word, “asshole.”  Who am I kidding?  I give this resolution until 9am on January 1.
  4. Become a Choreographer and Join Nappy Tabs:  Once I accomplish this goal of becoming a choreographer specializing in general hip hop and that subset of hip hop called lyrical hip hop (which, as I’ve been told, does not actually exist), I will join Nappy Tabs, and we will create a new choreography trio called Nectarized Nappy Tabs.  We will take SYTYCD by storm, to the point where each and every dance of each and every episode will be choreographed by us, and I will reap said financial rewards from this endeavor and reinvest those monies into finally being discovered by Tina Fey & NPH.

For my three readers, may all your New Year’s Resolutions be as attainable as mine.  May you bask in the shame of your resolution failures, and may your outlandish delusions of fame and fortune overtake your already-eroding concept of reality.  Happy New Year folks!

Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!

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Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Day 5

My quest to meet Tina Fey & NPH has taken me to the four corners of this Earth, so to speak.  I’ve attempted to place myself in positions that would enable me to “accidentally” run into these two saviors of comedy.  To quote the hubby, it’s not “stalking” . . . it’s “strategic networking.”  That’ll be my primary defense should I find myself handcuffed in the back of a black and white vehicle in front of NPH’s southern California pad as the cops confiscate my binoculars.  Because my script is so awesome, I won’t let them get their paws on that—see my inspiration below.

Last week, as part of my strategic networking plan, I headed over to Macy’s in downtown San Francisco to assist the SPCA with adoptions of dogs and cats.  Every year, during the holidays when people are overwhelmed by the haze of egg nog and David Archuleta’s Christmas album, the SPCA sets up window displays of adoptable animals at Macy’s.  I figured, on the off chance that Tina Fey or NPH have decided to visit San Francisco, they’d likely visit Union Square, and by assisting with the collection of donations, I would have a surefire way of being within 20 yards of my targets (I wonder what the average restraining order prescribes as a safe distance?).  So, with my collection jar in hand, an SPCA jacket on my back, and a friendly unassuming smile, I began my work.

Now, collecting donations in front of windows displaying kittens and a doggie is not that difficult, if you think about it.  The SPCA, however, helps you out by providing you with some simple instructions on how to encourage people to give.  Phrases like, “Gimme yo dough or the kitties be no mo” simply are not effective, as I was told with a wary eye.  They suggested something like, “Would you like to make a donation to the San Francisco SPCA?”  I found that line to be way too long and complicated, yielding in little money but instead leading to incessant questioning as to what “SPCA” stands for.  So, as a compromise between my catchy phrase and the party line, I decided to go with something along the lines of, “Would you like to make a donation to help these kittens find a real home?”  That worked pretty damn well, as I received plenty of singles, fives, ten-spots, and even a 20 in my two hours of volunteering.

I did not, however, manage to see Tina Fey or NPH.  However, I did accost approach each and every brunette woman donning glasses and ask for a donation, but none of them proved to be the target of my strategic networking.  At one point, I thought NPH had stormed in front of me screaming because he was so excited that he had finally been located by me, but alas, it was a somewhat crazy man telling all donators that they were going to hell for donating to dogs and not people.  As crazy man came near me, I quickly ingested my script, fearing that it was a ruse to get to my script of gold.  For days after, I payed dearly for that ingestion.  Will I ever find you, Tina Fey or NPH?  Hear my pleas.  Savor my devotion.

Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!

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Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Day Three

This weekend, I watched the film, Julie & Julia—primarily because it starred Meryl Streep and the chick from Enchanted.  I mean, Meryl Streep is like the most celebrated actor of all time.  She’s kind of like bacon.  If it’s got bacon, you know it’s gonna be good (except for that awful bacon dessert made by Kevin aka “the MIT guy” on Top Chef—can we say EW?).

I had no idea what to expect in watching the film, but I become quite envious of the Julie character (I was going to say spoiler alert, except it’s not a spoiler to state the complete obvious), because she effectively became rich and famous by blogging.  Julie earned her accolades by going through the Julia Child cookbook, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” and blogging about her attempts at accurately following the directions of the iconic American Frenchie, Julia Child.

So I’ve been inspired by Julie to continue in my pleas to Tina Fey and NPH who, to date, have yet to acknowledge my existence.  Although, in a moment of sheer insanity, I did believe that the most recent HIMYM contained NPH’s secret signals to me—you know, when he continually winked at the camera.  I was totally like, “Neil!  I see you!  I love you!  I will carry your lovechild!  I will travel to LA to find you and follow you in a totally legal and non-stalkerish fashion!”  I digress.

What can I, an attorney with outlandish dreams of eventually becoming an EGOT winner, possibly write about, on a consistent basis, that would yield in the achievement of my laughable fantasies?  I certainly don’t have the patience or wherewithal to cook from a fancy French cookbook every day (unless someone were to provide me with a substantial advance . . .).  I could write about my attempts at mimicking dance routines from SYTYCD, but such shenanigans cannot be adequately described in just words alone—just a couple weeks ago, I tried to complete at least 5 pirouettes in sequence and found that my body would effectively become frozen at about 3/4 of a pirouette, causing me to tumble to the floor in a heap of all that is not graceful.

Perhaps that, then, is why Tina and Neil have not discovered me.  I don’t have direction.  What shall I devote my blogging to in the upcoming days until my pending occupational nuptials with 30 Rock or HIMYM?

Screw it.  I like my current theme.  Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!

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Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Day One

I’ve been woefully delinquent in my blog postings.  It’s been a busy few months—packing up belongings, moving across the country, and then embarking upon a globe-trotting tour complete with a near pick-pocketing experience in which yours truly willed herself from sticking a fist up the perpetrator’s throat and a knee into the perpetrator’s crotch—now that I’ve somewhat settled in the city by the Bay, it’s time to resume my pleas to NPH and Tina Fey.

I asked myself:  How can I place myself into a position where I can fully comprehend what it feels like to be a writer?  And then, it dawned upon me.  Actors better themselves in their craft by fully submerging themselves in a particular role.  I must better my craft by becoming what most writers are:  struggling and unemployed.

So today, my adventures took me to Chinatown, where flocks of mostly Cantonese-speaking Chinese people flood the streets in an all-out, cheap grocery shopping assault.  I navigated my way through the crowds, making sure to absorb the literary and comedic fodder around me.  Seeking respite from the human storm, I walked into a somewhat empty fish store, where soon-to-be eaten crabs and lobsters were clawing in tanks, likely unaware of their fate.  The crustaceans attempted to claw at each other, made futile by the rubber bands rendering their claws impotent.  I began to ponder various plots involving the human equivalent of such helplessness . . .

Suddenly, a giant turtle started climbing up the side of its enclosure and fell over backwards, creating a ginormous splash, leaving my exposed leg covered with not one, not two, but three nasty drops of turtle water.  I squealed in fright and jumped in shock, only to find that the once-empty store had become filled with patrons—all of whom were staring at me as if I had walked in with the plague (or SARS, I was in Chinatown).  I immediately ran out of the store, thereby ending today’s adventure.

Ahhh, the life of a struggling writer.  Tina and/or NPH—how could you not want to hire me after what I’ve just been through?

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